


Bad Bones Jukebox

by stillstandingsurvival



Category: HLVRAI - Fandom, Half Life VR But The AI Is Self Aware, No Straight Roads (Video Game)
Genre: Band fic but not a song fic, Benrey/Gordon/Tommy also later maybe, Beta'd, Bonerey later maybe, Multi, Oh almost forgot, The OCs are just my personal take on Gordon's ex and a couple other plot ocs, This is my first fic in a while., This started out as a bunch of little ideas and became a whole fic ., t for cursing a lot, they/himrey
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:54:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 17,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26593252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stillstandingsurvival/pseuds/stillstandingsurvival
Summary: Struggling guitarist Gordon Freeman gets the opportunity of a lifetime after his two-man band is scouted by New Science Resolutions for their annual Lights Up Auditions. By some miracle he and his constantly aggravating new drummer, Benrey, qualify for the final round. When their performance ends up causing a never-before-seen split decision between the judges, NSR’s founder proposes an additional competition to break the tie. Can the duo rise above the odds and become electricity-generating rock stars? Or will the constant bickering and high pressure break them up before they can realize their dream?
Relationships: Benrey/Gordon Freeman, Bubby/Dr. Coomer (Half-Life)
Comments: 111
Kudos: 151





	1. Prologue

If there was one thing that G-man valued above all else, it was logic. Logic had dictated his every decision since he’d been old enough to understand the concept, and very rarely had it failed him. From his office in the NSR tower’s crown he could easily look down and see the fruits of his analytical labor. The tiered city of Vinyl Mesa shone with a wash of multicolored lights, each district glowing with a hue that represented its leader. Power production had never been higher. The only problem was-

G-man sighed as he watched the radiance of his city suddenly sputter out. Emergency power was immediately rerouted to the necessary channels, including all NSR Elites’ properties. His own tower first, then his son’s, then the rest of their associates. Yes, production had never been higher for the city...but forty-seven percent wasn’t enough to stop the semi-constant blackouts that the city suffered. A city of Vinyl Mesa’s size was nearly too large to be sustainable on sixty percent of the Grand Kwasa’s potential output. The NSR founder knew this.

But G-man also knew that the potential for one hundred percent was out there, somewhere. It was a nonzero chance, and he was getting closer every year to finding the artist that would finally keep his city shining bright. He could feel it. The algorithms he’d developed agreed. With all of the new talent that surfaced every day, he had to be close.

All he needed was a little spotlight to shine in just the right place.

X X X X X X X

“SHIT!”

Gordon Freeman, PHD in theoretical physics, swore as the lights went out in the middle of his riff. He felt his guitar, already bruised from being second hand, slip from his sweaty hands. Diving after it in the dark caused him to slam his head onto what was probably his amp, but at least his dreams weren’t lying in splinters on the floor. He really couldn’t afford a new instrument right now, not with the job market like it was, and he’d just spent the last of his money soundproofing the garage to keep from waking his four-year-old son when he practiced at night.

To his right, he caught the creak of the door to the house opening, the dim light of a storm lantern bathing the embarrassing sight of a grown ass man cradling a guitar like it was his firstborn. Diana, Gordon’s ex-wife and current room mate, looked even more exhausted than he felt. She was on medical leave from her job after getting a much needed operation on her knee, and the pain hadn’t been letting her sleep.

“Hey Di, you shouldn’t be walking right now,” Gordon scolded gently, rising to his feet with a little wince. Felt like he’d bruised more than just his head in the act of saving his instrument. Worth it.

“Heard the crash.” She replied before hissing through her teeth at the sight of his face. “Gordon, your head...”

Quirking an eyebrow in response to her words hurt, and when Gordon reached up to gingerly prod the area near the pain, his hand came away wet. Oops. Apparently more than bruised. Still worth it.

Diana shook her head and took Gordon by the arm, leading him through their small kitchen to the even smaller bathroom and making him sit down on the toilet so she could get a better look at his wound. He couldn’t help but smile a little. They were exes, but still friends that were co-raising a kid. Sue him if he was a little proud of the amicable nature of their relationship. It was nice that she still cared.

“I swear these blackouts are happening more often,” Diana sighed, blotting at the blood with a wetted piece of toilet paper.

“They are. Old Vinny from down the road’s been keeping track.”

Scowling, she pressed a little too hard on her next swipe, then instantly apologized when Gordon flinched. He knew how much the classist bullshit bugged her. Hell, it bugged everyone except those it benefitted. Something was telling about how NSR’s towers lit up instantly after the power went down, but no one was willing to do much more than gripe about it since NSR was also responsible for  _ generating _ said power.

That was why it was just easier to try and become part of the system. Gordon looked down at the guitar he’d just shed blood to save, and tried not to think too hard about it. He wasn’t necessarily the best out there, but before Di had Joshie, their band had been good enough to generate a small following. Not that he blamed her for wanting to focus on her career and their son. Hell, if he knew a place that would take a physicist as young as him seriously, he’d sell his guitar in a minute. As it was, twenty-eight was basically the same as being an infant in the eyes of his peers.

So here he was, trying his best to rekindle the spark he’d had when he and Diana were playing. If he could do that, he might catch NSR’s eye and be able to make some changes from within the company-

But that was a super big if, coming from the idiot whose ex was cleaning him up in his bathroom.

Gordon sighed, attracting Diana’s focus for a moment before her eyes flicked to the bandage she was centering on the thankfully small cut. “You’re beating yourself up again.” She said.

“No! No, I’m good, I’m great.” Gordon stammered back, knowing full well Diana could read him like a damn book.

“You’re a good guitarist,” She smirked a little, teasingly tugging on his ponytail before turning to put the first aid supplies away. “You just gotta find someone with half my talent to make you sound great.”

Gordon squawked in surprise, then covered his mouth, rubbing at the back of his head. He glared at her, though no real heat was behind it, and stood up to muss her hair in return. “If I find someone with half your talent, I’ll have to pay like five people to have the drums sound decent!”

“Oh ho, shots fired.” Diana snickered back. “Okay Freeman, help me back to my room before we wake Joshua.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Later, when Diana was in bed and his guitar was in its case, Gordon rested on the living room couch. The water stains on the ceiling were, for once, not really the subject of his attention. He was watching the glowing tower of the local NSR leader. A gaudy thing that was shaped like something called a lava lamp. Gordon had never seen one, but while it was tacky there was also something soothing about the floating orbs of bright green color that cycled up and down the structure. He wondered what kind of building he’d get if he became a part of NSR.

“One step at a time, Gordon.” He muttered to himself before closing his eyes. 

Tomorrow, he’d borrow some money from old Vinny and put an ad out for a drummer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact this part's been written for a while, but my betas booli'd me into expanding a flashback from the first chapter. So now there's a prologue and 3 chapters pre-written.


	2. Chapter One

It was official: interviews sucked almost as much from the employer’s side as they did from the interviewee’s side. 

When Gordon had put out his ad, he’d been expecting every washed up oldie or new hopeful in the Chi District to turn up in his garage. And quite a few of them did! It’s just...they either didn’t mesh well with Gordon’s style, had scheduling conflicts, or were just plain bad. He hated letting people down, and that had basically been his whole day. The worst part was that he was going to have to dedicate tomorrow to knocking on the doors of a few musically inclined people he knew who hadn’t shown up. Just on the off chance that they were interested and hadn’t heard or something.

Thunder grumbled faintly from somewhere beyond the city border. It had been for about forty minutes now, and judging by the heavy black shapes overhead, a storm was about to break out. Gordon could already smell the semi-sweet scent that the air carried right before rain. Josh would be excited. He loved watching lightning through their front windows. Maybe the two of them could convince Diana to let them eat in the living room tonight so they could enjoy the storm together-

...Why did he feel like he was being watched?

Gordon turned towards the open garage door from his task of putting away the fold-out ping pong table he’d been using as an impromptu desk. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he spotted a slouched figure, watching him with glowing yellow eyes from just beyond the threshold. It took him a moment to realize that he was looking at an android; the glow was just a set of LEDs set into...what looked like a piece of black plastic? 

The robot’s face had been damaged at some point, and Gordon guessed whoever had it fixed hadn’t had the money to replace the metal that made up the top half of its face. No surprise, really. Most Chi District families couldn’t afford a ‘bot at all, much less aesthetic repairs for it. They had gone out of the way to clothe it though, which was kinda weird. It was dressed in a worn, dark blue hoodie and scuffed up blue jeans. The bill of a black snapback peeked out under its hood, and its workboots looked to be a size too big.

Oops, he was staring. Shaking his head and clearing his throat, Gordon gave the android a small, questioning smile. “Uh, hey there! Can I help you?”

It blinked at him slowly, processing his question as its shoulders lifted up in a shrug. It pursed its lips and made a popping sound with them that definitely shouldn’t have been possible with a mouth made of metal.

“nah man, I’m uh, here to help your lame band out with my epic drum skills.”

Despite the insult, Gordon instantly felt terrible. Their way of talking and mostly-human gestures were a sure sign of an A.I. Which means he’d just spent the last minute calling a person an ‘it’ and bashing their clothes. Nice, Freeman.

“O-oh uh. I mean, auditions are kinda over…” His guilt grew heavier as he started to deny them. It really wouldn’t be a big deal for him to spare ten minutes for them. “...but uh, if you have time, I guess you can show me your stuff?”

The android had started to slump even more, but instantly perked up at his words, flashing teeth that looked like someone had shoved a bear trap in a person’s face. God, they looked shady. But there was no backing out of it now, they were already pulling out a pair of drumsticks from their hoodie pocket.

“fuck yeah, bro. gonna show you moves so epic your dick’ll fall off.”

“Wh-” Gordon balked for a moment, stunned again by how weird their speech patterns were. “I. No?”

“yeeeee” They drawled in reply, raising the sticks above their head.

It hit the physicist a moment too late that he hadn’t seen any sign of a drum pad or anything else that could serve as a practice surface. “Wait, where’s your-”

Before Gordon could even finish his sentence, the sticks came down. Not on Diana’s car, as he’d been afraid of, but on two octagons of soft blue light. He gaped as the ‘bot rolled out complex shuffles, 5/4 beats, and a roll so fast that his eyes couldn’t keep up with the sticks. Their foot pressed an imaginary pedal for the kick drum, but the ripple of light and sound produced was very real. Patterns of diamonds broke out of thin air when the stranger went for the cymbals.  The display was dazzling, and ended with a practiced twirl of the sticks around the ‘bot’s fingers. They grinned at him widely, clearly knowing they’d nailed it.

It took Gordon a sec to be able to speak again, blinking away the fireworks in his eyes. “I...holy shit man, that was amazing!”

Their grin widened and their hands slipped back into their hoodie’s pocket. “soooo? got the job? new bandmate and best friend?”

“Well, we should play something together first, to make sure we mesh but, like, yeah. I’m really impressed! What do you wanna play?”

The android tilted their head in contemplation. “...you know ‘pour some sugar on me’?”

Gordon snorted, but retrieved his guitar. “Who doesn’t?” He asked as he checked the strings. “...I’m Gordon, by the way. Gordon Freeman.”

“feetman?”

“ _ Free _ man.” The guitar strap secured, he played a chord to be sure of the tuning. “Didn’t catch your name?”

The bot blinked again, something Gordon was starting to understand meant that they needed an extra second or two to actually answer. For skills like that, he could be patient. Even if the owner of said skills seemed to like to needle him a little.

“benrey.”

Their voice had been so soft, Gordon almost hadn’t caught it. “...Benny?”

“nah. benrey.”

Benrey it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter numbers are gonna get confusing, I'm so sorry. Anyway wanted to have the first chapter out alongside the prologue. Also, this is probably the only time I'm gonna actually name a song, I want the rest to be up to interpretation. Also, also I took a drum class for several years...but I don't remember like anything from it. Fake it til you make it was my technique when writing about Benrey playing. Sorry if I offend any drum people with my ignorance lol. Hope you all enjoy!


	3. Chapter Two

Gordon had known that it was going to be a struggle to go through with the Band Plan (™) when he’d come up with it before Diana’s surgery. He’d known that he’d likely do a lot of running around, taking odd jobs, and that he’d be coming home fucking exhausted a lot of the time. What he hadn’t known was that, no matter how tired he physically was, he would always have energy to argue with Benrey.

It was weird; for the most part the drummer was a quiet individual. They didn’t speak much unless they got started on some tangent or another. Gordon found that they were passionate about the weirdest things. Drums, sure, but also patterns in the clouds, old movies, and video games. This last topic is what held Benrey’s attention today.

Unlike Benrey, Gordon was a talker. He’d been rambling about possible gifts for Joshua’s birthday, when he’d made the apparently unforgivable mistake of considering an edutainment game for his son. The ‘bot had spluttered violently whipping their head around to pin Gordon with a look like he’d told them the sky was green.

“are you fucking kidding me bro? you want your mini self to grow up a giant nerd with no friends? that’s what you want? gordon meanman…”

Looking up from his meticulous tuning, Gordon quirked an eyebrow. “...You know I’m a ‘giant nerd’, right?” He asked, not sure whether to be offended or amused. “Like...I have a degree in theoretical physics, Benrey.”

Benrey blinked owlishly at him. “huh? whuh?” 

“Yeah, I’m trying to do math and stuff for a living.”

That earned him a squint. 

“not nice to lie to your best friend, gordos.” Benrey pouted, fiddling with their drumsticks. They were perched on top of the hood of Diana’s car, despite the fact that Gordon had repeatedly told them NOT to touch that. But it was hard to be mad when they were kicking their feet like a moody kid. Gordon couldn’t help but snort at their behavior. 

“I’m not lying. What, you wanna come in and see my degree?”

Whiplash quick, Benrey perked right back up again. “woah, feetman house tour no clickbait?”

“Yeah, sure. No clickbait.” Laughing, he set his guitar back in its case, then motioned to his bandmate to follow him. He heard their shoes hit the concrete behind him and smiled to himself as he opened the door that led into the house. “Be quiet though, okay? Diana’s sleeping.”

“huh?”

It was Gordon’s turn to blink as he turned back to his bandmate. “Diana. My ex-wife? The one whose car you’re always sitting on?”

“oh…” Benrey looked down at the tacky vinyl that lined the kitchen floor, processing the ‘new’ information. “...dilf gordon lives with his ex? cringe.”

Gordon almost choked on his own spit. “Dude, don’t call me a DILF, that’s weird! Yes, I live with my ex, it’s not cringe. We’re still friends and it’s easier to raise Joshie like this.”

That got a smirk from the bot. Oh no. “is a bro not allowed to appreciate another bro’s dad bod?”

Groaning, Gordon dragged his hands down his face. Strange Benrey habit number two: they liked to flirt sometimes. He knew he should ignore it, but he just couldn’t help trying to nip the behavior in the bud. It made things...weird. The two of them had only known each other for a couple months, and...well of course Benrey wasn’t serious about it. But still. Gordon could stand to live without it.

“You wanna see my degree or not, man?” The physicist finally sighed.

“oh right. poggers.”

Apparently that meant ‘yes, I’d love to see your degree’, because Benrey brushed past him and into the main room of the house. Gordon watched them take in the well-loved couch, the old T.V. against the west wall, the almost threadbare rug. If they were judging, it didn’t show on their face. They did point and tilt their head questioningly when they noticed the pillow and folded comforter on the arm of the sofa.

“Oh. Uh, we may be friends, but, you know…” Gordon felt his face going a little red as he explained. “I take the couch. Me and Di don’t like sharing covers.”

Something unreadable went across Benrey’s metal features, but they didn’t comment further. They did spin on their heel and head into the hallway, however, and Gordon had to scramble after them. Before he could stop them, they were popping their head into the open door of Josh’s room. The kiddo wasn’t there right now-probably taking a nap with Di-but Gordon didn’t appreciate how nosy the bot was being. Sure, he’d invited them in, but that didn’t mean it was open season to go wherever they pleased.

Instead of scolding them, which would probably only lead to them just continuing their rude behavior, Gordon shuffled past them. Quietly as he could, he pulled down the ladder for the attic at the end of the hall. He put a finger to his lips, shushing them before hiking a thumb at Diana’s door to remind them of the caveat he’d put on this visit. Surprisingly they just nodded, and followed his lead into the dusty air above.

The attic was pretty small, but it wasn’t like the Freeman clan had a lot of junk to store. It was mainly just for documents and stuff they couldn’t put on the walls because of the landlords ‘no nail’ rule. That, of course, included Gordon’s degree. 

Benrey squeezed their eyes shut for a moment, and when they opened again the yellow glow had intensified. They cut through the dim atmosphere to act as flashlights, and Gordon smiled at the ‘bot, glad for the assistance. He knelt, squinting as he pulled some boxes closer, looking specifically for the one labeled ‘Gordon’s College Junk’. It didn’t take long, and soon he was reverently pulling out the framed diploma.

Beaming, Gordon turned to his bandmate, presenting his find with a flourish. Benrey did their impossible lip pop, nodding a bit. The beams of their eyes bounced playfully along the back wall of the attic.

“ooooooo-kay, dr. feetman real. gg.” They murmured, their natural monotone taking on a small hint of what Gordon chose to believe was admiration.

He puffed out his chest a little, glad that his degree had actually impressed someone for once. It had been a lot of hard work for-so far-very little payoff. It was nice to be acknowledged, even if Benrey wasn’t another scientist.

Gordon was distracted as Benrey’s lights shifted back to the box, and he spared a glance to where they were looking. On top of whatever other scraps he’d saved from his school days was a poster. A very familiar one to Gordon: he’d had the sun-faded thing since he was ten. It was for an old band he’d loved as a kid, and he felt himself going pink again as he quickly shoved the diploma back on top of it.

“A-anyway! We gonna practice or not, man?”

“huh?” Benrey said, and this time it looked as if they really had missed what Gordon said.

“Practice? For our band? The one that’s got a gig next week?”

“oh,” They replied, voice softer than usual. “yeah, let’s uh. jam it up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I slept all day, but still managed to catch Wayne's stream tonight. Fuck yeah. <3 Also I have no self control so I'm eating through my buffer chapters quick. Oops...Oh well. You can find me over on https://stillstandingsurvivor.tumblr.com/ if you want to ask questions or just say hi. Enjoy! Love you.


	4. Chapter Three

The gig was actually a favor Gordon had called in. Halley’s Café had been short-staffed last year after a waitress hit it big with the lottery and ran off with the barista, and the owner had frantically called everyone in the neighborhood phone tree. Gordon had been the only one free, and at the end of the ten hour shift a very grateful Mr. Blythe had told him that he owed him one. Maybe he hadn’t meant it literally, but he’d taken very little convincing to actually let Benrey and Gordon come in and set up around three pm.

As far as Gordon was concerned, this would be the real test of all their hard work. If they couldn’t at least entertain the crowd at Halley’s, there was no goddamn way they’d make it to Lights Up. With that in mind, he thought it was understandable that he’d almost dropped his guitar five times.

Benrey, for their part, had only seemed uncomfortable until they’d gotten onstage. It didn’t take a genius to see they weren’t a fan of crowds, but apparently that only applied if they were in the crowd themselves? Who knew why. Benrey was a fucking enigma. But they were an enigma with impressive drum skills, and as long as they performed, Gordon really didn’t give a shit what they did.

They were their own sound setup, so the pre-show was mainly just Benrey watching Gordon run around like a chicken with its head cut off. A little annoying, but whatever. They weren’t running away and they weren’t being distracting. That was really all he could ask for. He’d lost count of the times that Benrey had gone off on a tangent when they should have been playing. It had been especially bad this last week. Maybe that was where they’d let out all their nerves?

No time to be thinking about his bandmate’s weird habits now. Gordon checked his setup one last time before taking a deep breath. He held it for a count of seven, exhaled for eight; a trick Diana had taught him back in college. Everything was going to go fine. Yeah it had been a long time since he played for a crowd, but if he stayed calm, he wouldn’t fuck up. God, he couldn’t afford to fuck up.

Glancing over at Benrey, he gave them a quick smile that was almost more of grimace.

“You ready, partner?”

“whuh?” Came the now familiar reply, quickly followed by a nod as the bot slid off the speaker they definitely shouldn’t have been sitting on. “hell yeah, feetman. let’s show these noobs our epic gamer skills.”

“That makes _no_ sense,” Gordon said, letting out a breathless little chuckle as he stepped up to the mic. “Count us in, Benrey.”

If the sharp sound of their drumsticks as they clacked them together over their head didn’t get the crowd’s attention, the sudden neon glow of their unorthodox drums certainly did. Gordon didn’t have much time to think before his fingers automatically jumped to the frets, strumming out the opening chords of the first song in their set. The stage lights shone down on them both, blocking out the sight of the café patrons. It made it easier to believe that they were just in the garage again.

For a glorious moment, it was just the two of them. Then, as the last notes faded out, the café was filled with polite clapping. Gordon jumped at the unexpected sound, then smiled shyly out at the room. That was a good sign! Great, actually...

Okay...they could do this. Easy peasy. Gordon turned to Benrey, giving them a thumbs up. They were staring at him again, or had been. They turned back away quickly when he focused on them. He didn’t have time to ask them what was up before they were counting into the next song. Eventually they found a comfortable rhythm, pausing only for a moment between songs so that Gordon could swig down some water.

And then, between songs six and seven, disaster struck. They were taking a slightly longer break, and Gordon had just gotten back from the bathroom when Benrey seemed to appear out of nowhere. They whapped him in the chest with the back of their hand (a little harder than what Gordon thought was necessary), their eyes wide as they nodded towards a figure near the counter. 

A woman, well dressed, a clinical sort of disinterest on her face as she ordered something from the anxious-looking cashier. Gordon’s breath caught in his throat when he caught what was embroidered on the front of her jacket. Three simple letters, ones that held all the meaning in the world: N.S.R. Was this a coincidence? Had word somehow gotten out about their performance?

“s’our chance.” Benrey’s voice broke him out of his racing thoughts.

Oh fuck, they were right. However this person had come here, this was his and Benrey’s chance to get noticed. This next song would basically be life or death. Everything-his family’s future, maybe even the future of the city-rode on this. Gordon’s heart kicked into overdrive. Fuck, fuck, fuck, he wasn’t ready-

But Benrey was already ascending the stage’s stairs, and Gordon had no choice but to scramble after them. He didn’t remember picking up his guitar, but it was in his hands, his knuckles white as he clutched it like a lifeline. Benrey was already starting the kick for their finale song, and Gordon’s fingers strummed and plucked the opening melody on autopilot. The vocals. He was supposed to start the vocals now. The physicist opened his mouth, but as the N.S.R. agent’s eyes turned towards the stage, the song died in his throat.

Oh god. He’d blown it. He’d choked. He’d fucked up everything. All their hard work-

A single note pierced through the claustrophobic panic that had become Gordon Freeman’s world. It was the first lyric of the song, but there was an otherworldly beauty to the tone that no human could possibly hope to replicate. Time seemed to stop. Blue orbs of light filled the air over the stage, and one drifted down to settle in the hand Gordon had instinctively outstretched. It pulsed gently, then faded into his skin, leaving a light stain for just a few seconds. Starting from the point of contact, a sensation of utter calm began to wash through his body.

Even more people were staring at them now, he could feel it, but somehow...it didn’t matter. What mattered was the song, and that Benrey’s drums and voice (!) were still going. Gordon quickly resituated his hands and resumed playing, his voice joining his partner’s in a soft harmony. Most of the songs he’d picked for this set were soft and slow, so they wouldn’t disrupt the atmosphere of the café. This one was a ballad, its message hopeful but tinged with melancholy.

The café had fallen silent as they played. All eyes on them. And Gordon didn’t even care. This moment was just about him and Benrey.

As the final notes rang out over the room, he broke out of his trance just in time to see that the agent was crying. Then the crowd was on their feet, cheering, and whooping, their applause thunderous in the small space. Gordon felt like the breath had been knocked out of him, blinking against the lights and sounds of the room. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder. Benrey.

“I...didn’t know you could do that.” Gordon said lamely. “Why didn’t you do that before…?”

Benrey sniffed dismissively. “your lil gordo babby brain wasn’t ready to experience my full power, bro.”

“I. Okay.” The physicist conceded. “...Your voice is beautiful.”

His partner blinked once, their mouth opening as if to ask a question.

“Excuse me.” An unfamiliar voice clipped off whatever Benrey had been about to say. It was the N.S.R. agent, her glasses pushed up high on her nose to hide her messed up mascara behind the stage lights' glare. “That was quite the performance.”

“Er. Yeah, thank you.” Gordon managed, gripping his guitar like a shield as some of the anxiety from before resurfaced.

“A bit shaky to start, but I’d be highly remiss to not acknowledge your skills.” The woman continued, reaching into her breast pocket to retrieve a slip of glossy paper.

Gordon almost choked on his own spit when he recognized it. It was an invitation to the Lights Up Auditions. This was it. Everything he’d hoped for, right in front of his face. The agent slipped the invitation into his trembling hand and said something about stage fright that he didn’t quite catch before she melted back into the crowd.

“...We did it.” Gordon all but whispered, staring down at the invite. Slowly, he turned his awed gaze onto Benrey, a huge grin spreading across his face. With a whoop, he swept the smaller person into his arms, giving them a crushing hug. His partner’s expression was startled, but after a moment they almost cautiously returned the embrace. “We did it, you saved our asses and now we’re headed to Lights up!” 

“oh, haha, yeah,” Benrey mumbled against his shoulder. “told you we were epic, bro.”

“Yeah you did!” Gordon crowed. “Holy fuck, I can’t believe this is happening!”

He let the drummer go, missing the reluctance of the bot’s retreat in his giddiness. “I can’t wait to tell Di and Josh, they’re gonna-”

Gordon stopped mid sentence as he realized something important. Something dire. Once again he turned his gaze on Benrey, and they cocked their head in confusion at his haunted stare.

“....Dude, we don’t even have a band name.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I'll go light with the Frenrey" I say to myself, like a liar. Fun fact: this chapter has given me the most trouble so far. I had a clear mental image of Benrey revealing their sweet voice here, but not how it would happen. Hope it doesn't come off too clunky. >.>
> 
> Once again if you want to find me and ask questions or say hi, I'm over at: https://stillstandingsurvivor.tumblr.com/


	5. Chapter Four

“bbbbenro and gordo."

If Gordon clenched his teeth any harder, they were going to crack. Wouldn’t that just look great on T.V.?

“Fucking...no, man. That’s terrible.”

Slouched in the chair next to him, his bandmate of three months blew a raspberry. He still wasn’t used to the dated “gamer lingo” the guy used. Whoever programmed them had weird taste. Or maybe they’d developed that on their own? They were AI. And...very uniquely Benrey.

Benrey sucked at band names. They insisted Gordon’s weren’t much better, but anything had to be better than “top ten anime betrayals: the band”.

“bbbbady and borko.” They tried again. If you could call that trying.

“Benrey…”

“you already said we couldn’t call it that.”

Now, they were five minutes away from filming the intro that people all over Vinyl Mesa were going to see, and Benrey had gotten stuck on the idea of naming the band after themselves. Which meant they had made exactly zero headway with the topic, because Gordon wasn’t about to go on live T.V. with a band name like “Benrey and the Feetmens”. Insult of publicly bastardizing his last name aside, there were only two of them playing and therefore that particular suggestion just made zero fucking sense.

“beat meat mania.” Benrey said, flashing a sharp, metal grin at him.

At least they were off the topic of their name.

“We will  _ absolutely _ get kicked out of the competition if we go with a dick joke.” Gordon groaned, dragging his hands down his face. “We’re lucky they haven’t pressed us for a name before now…”

The bot’s face fell into an expression of mild confusion. “huh? who said anything about dicks, bro? get your mind out of the gutter. can’t play your music if your mind’s in a gutter.”

“Next.” The voice of the man in charge of the interviews sounded just as tired as Gordon felt. For a split second, the physicist felt terrible knowing that the guy was probably underpaid for the bullshit that came dealing with a bunch of musicians, and that he and Benrey were definitely about to add to that bullshit. Then he remembered that, oh yeah,  _ they  _ were next, and his adrenaline shoved every other thought out of his mind.

Stumbling over himself, Gordon hurried to the electrician’s tape x that served to mark the center of the camera’s view. Benrey, unhurried, shuffled after him with their hands stuffed in their hoodie’s pocket. God, they both probably looked like a pair of transients who’d wandered in off the streets. Gordon’s hair was a bit wild from running his hands through it, a habit he’d had since he was a kid. He quickly drew the messy curls back with a hair tie he kept on his wrist for emergencies. 

The cameraman cleared his throat, making his impatience very obvious. “Okay, so, you are?”

“Hi! Howdy,” Gordon blurted, going a bit red as he heard his partner snicker softly beside him. He gritted his teeth in a facsimile of a smile, but didn’t try to tell them off. This wasn’t the time or place. “I’m Gordon Freeman, I play the guitar.”

There was a beat too long of silence, before Gordon nudged Benrey with his elbow. The bot startled, then looked down at their feet. Were they camera shy?

“m’benrey.”

Judging by the sigh and the dull look in his eye, the cameraman was not impressed.

“And your band name is…?” He prompted.

For a split second, Gordon’s heart dropped as he saw a smirk return to Benrey’s face. They opened their mouth, and began to say “big boner-” something, but almost instinctively Gordon hooked an elbow around their neck, dragging them close and ‘smiling’ bigger as he raised his tone to cover up another fucking dick joke.

“Bad Bones Jukebox!”

It was...kind of a word salad, something he’d spit out just to override his drummer, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as it could have been. Benrey, for their part, simply blinked slowly and didn’t object. Relieved that they wouldn’t be fighting on camera, Gordon’s smile softened into something a little more real. 

“Yeah, Bad Bones Jukebox, and we’re ready to rock your socks off!”

Benrey snorted.

The tech still seemed to be looking at them like they were a waste of air, but cut the camera. “That’ll do I guess.” The overworked man grumbled, before calling out another “Next!”

Letting out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, legs trembling like jelly as he left the video area with his bandmate trailing behind him. Gordon almost allowed himself to relax for a second before he remembered that they had just gotten through the easy part of this whole thing. If he was this nervous about a T.V. spot interview, how the hell was he going to survive the actual audition in front of the NSR judges?

Something cold touched the back of the physicist’s neck, and he yelped in surprise. Whirling around to face the culprit-Benrey, of course-his indignant reply to the offense was cut off by the bot’s half-lidded stare. 

“kinda, uh, rude of you to keep the good name quiet. mean to your best friend benrey.” They drawled.

Gordon blinked. Was...that a complement?

“You...liked it?”

“yeah,” They looked away as they spoke, seemingly sheepish over giving actual positive feedback. “bones are dope as hell.”

Okay. Benrey liked bones. Noted. Surprising even himself, Gordon felt the tension in his shoulders dissipate. He laughed, a little tired and a lot nervous, clapping a hand on the drummer’s shoulder. For their part, Benrey just smiled back at him, almost gently.

Then they went and ruined the moment by childishly mimicking Gordon’s voice to say “we’re ready to rock your socks off.”

It was irritating, but somehow Gordon just found himself laughing harder, hanging off of Benrey as he doubled over slightly.

“Fuck you man!” He wheezed when he was able.

“that’s going in my lame-o feetman fail compilation” Was their only reply.

“You do NOT have a fail compilation of me.”

“yuh huh,” Benrey tapped the side of their head. “fail feetman footage be all up in my noggin. got, uh, a secret channel where I post all the best ones. subscribers love it.”

Gordon wiped a tear away with the heel of his hand, unable to help himself as he smiled back. “Yeah? Well tell ‘em to support us. We need all the help we can get.”

That was a sobering thought. As they’d bantered, they had made it to the large doors leading out to the Lights Up arena. Gordon’s grin quickly faded, looking up at the mammoth exit. Holy shit, this was real. This was happening.

A light pressure on the physicist’s back startled him out of his anxiety spiral. Benrey, their own smirk gone now, was staring at him with...concern? Was that concern? Over the time they’d spent together, Gordon had gradually gotten better at reading the ‘bot’s monotone voice and nearly expressionless face. Right now their eyes looked wider than normal, and their head had a slight tilt, so...yeah. Concern.

“relax gordo. we got this.” They said.

And even as the large doors opened, the roar of the crowd beyond becoming deafening, Gordon believed them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We finally hit the original chapter 1! As well as the title drop. Shit gon get wild next chapter...hopefully. I don't have a great track record with action scenes but I'm damn well gonna try! Love yall, come hit me up at https://stillstandingsurvivor.tumblr.com/ with questions or to say hi!


	6. Chapter Five

In theory, Gordon knew exactly what to expect when they entered the arena. He’d seen previous years’ competitions. Last year in particular had been an interest to Joshua, when the winning artist had been a country singer with a full cowboy aesthetic, so the Freeman household hadn’t missed a single broadcast with that guy in it. What was his name? For...something. Either way, he knew that the point of the Lights Up arena was to test how contestants would act under pressure.

Now, he was no couch potato. Well, he did sleep on his couch, but he wasn’t lazy. Gordon was athletic in his own right. Track in high school, followed by several different sports that he’d tried in college, and even up to the present’s odd jobs, he’d always kept himself in decent shape. But...he’d also seen the kind of intensity that could go on around here.

And then there was Benrey. Gordon had no idea how maneuverable they were. He hadn’t really thought they’d get this far, and so he hadn’t asked. They didn’t strike him as the athletic type...but then, he’d seen people surprised at his activity level as well. Benrey had surprised him before, now that Gordon thought about it; The memory of the café performance had stuck with him. So...they’d probably be fine, right?

“Better keep an eye on ‘em.” He mumbled to himself as he and his bandmate stepped out into the spotlight.

The arena was circular, with high walls that pulsed with light to the beat of the Lights Up theme. Its floor was patterned with grooves and circuitry, innocuous enough unless you knew for a fact that that was typically where the obstacles came from. Opposite the doors into the arena were six towering cylinders, the tops of which were shadowed- the judges seats. Gordon gulped back some anxious nausea, craning his neck back to look at the barely visible silhouettes.

“Bad. Bones Jukebox.” Came a halting, monotone voice. “Quite a. Unique. Name.”

Everyone in Vinyl Mesa knew that voice. Ganymede Manning-Coolatta was a household name...sort of. Most people just referred to him as his stage name: G-Man. Founder of N.S.R., and current head of Vinyl Mesa. The big cheese himself.

Holy shit, Gordon might just keel over right here.

“Mr. Freeman. And. Mr. Ben. Rey.” G-man continued, the walls of the arena blooming in grey and white patterns to match his words. “Are you ready. To show us your. Skills?”

Just like back in the café, he felt his voice catch in his throat. Just like back in the café, Benrey came to the rescue in a way Gordon wouldn’t have seen coming in a million years.

The android’s drumsticks whipped through the air, rapidly travelling around their ethereal drum set. The blocks of color rippled and strobed, the arena walls coming to life in shades of blue and metallic greys, bouncing refracted light all around the floor. It spun into place as hexagons, forming something that Gordon could only think of as some sort of shield around each of them. Armoring up finished, Benrey extended an arm, sharply pointing one of their sticks up at the judges.

“oh, we’re gonna show you  _ something _ , bro. set us the fuck up.”

Gordon didn’t have time to marvel or be angry at the vulgarity they’d pointed towards people who were supposed to be judging their band. There was a beat of silence, then the screens around them lit up with a countdown from ten. Holy shit, okay, apparently it was go time. The physicist jumped as Benrey’s back slid up against his. They were way more ready for this than he was counting on.

“Guess you’re gonna be the one looking out for me.” Gordon said, flabbergasted.

A sharp grin in response, and then the air was full of electricity. N.S.R. drones rose from the ground, their chassis shining and optic ports quickly finding targets in the two bandmates. The crowd overhead screamed with anticipation. Gordon felt his hair stand on end, but nonetheless, his hands found the frets on his guitar.

Back when they’d practiced for this moment, Gordon had planned out a repertoire for them to use. All instrumentals, as he’d known that the obstacle course was coming. The N.S.R. judges chose a time to keep, and they would have to play music that matched, or they’d be disqualified. On top of that, the obstacles and robots were all calibrated to move in time with the beat. Any musician worth their salt could keep a beat, so all the two of them had to do was step out of the way while making sure they didn’t fuck up their song.

Simple, right?

_Nope._

Thank god for muscle memory, because Gordon was having a hell of a time remembering what notes came next when a drone was swinging at him. Benrey moved like water, slick and fluid, as if this was nothing to him. But even with all the chaos of beams trying to trip them and the floor shifting beneath their feet…

Despite everything, this was the best that Gordon had ever heard them sound.

Pride shot through him, and a grin broke out on his face. This was...this was fun? Holy shit, it was amazing! He’d never felt so alive. Adrenaline pumped through him with every chord, every beat of his partner’s drums. Someone was laughing, and Gordon realized it was Benrey, loud and raucous and human. It was contagious, the physicist soon howling along with them.

And before he knew it, he’d hit the last note.

Applause exploded overhead. Gordon had almost forgotten they were being spectated. He lifted his head to the masses, and beamed. Panting with the exertion of the past four minutes-had it really only been four minutes?-he grabbed Benrey’s hand and raised it with his own in triumph. The bot startled, then chuckled in an almost embarrassed way.

“you’re such a dork, feetman.” They muttered, nudging him almost hard enough to knock him off balance. He simply nudged them back with a grin.

“Ahem.”

Oh. Right. They technically hadn’t won yet.

“That was. Quite a show.” G-man intoned.

“Thank you!” Gordon called up to him.

“But. Rock isn’t. What we’re looking. For. Right now.”

Gordon’s face fell as a buzzer sounded, and a large red X appeared on the central column.

“What,” He stepped forward on legs shaking with fatigue, arms out to gesture to the area around him. “But...but we cleared the course!”

“We reserve. The right to. Deny any artist. Regardless of. If the course was. Cleared.”

Gordon’s mouth fell open. How could this guy be serious? They’d played so well. The audience had loved it! But-

Another X lit up on one of the columns. No...this wasn’t fair!

Ding! A green ring appeared. And then-ding!-another. Ding! And another!

One judge left. If they passed them, they’d get in despite G-man’s denial. He held his breath, hoping for the best.

Gordon’s heart sank as a third X appeared on the final column with a loud buzz. Next to him, Benrey let out a low growl, angry red orbs slipping between their lips.

“...This is. Unusual.” G-man’s voice snapped through the despair that had been to settle over Gordon. “We’ve. Never had a tie before.”

So...they weren’t just going to get kicked out? It wasn’t game over yet?

“...How about. A test. Instead of. Disqualification.” The C.E.O. proposed. “We will. Prepare a series of events. If you are. Able to. Generate more electricity. Than my N.S.R elites. In a. ‘Battle Of The Bands’. You will be. Allowed to join us.”

This...was a better chance than Gordon could have hoped for. He looked at Benrey for confirmation. They still seemed to be seething, but the orbs of Sweet Voice had definitely slowed down.

“What do you think, Benrey?” He asked. “You up for it?”

“i think n.s.r. should get ready to have their asses beat.”

Gordon returned his gaze to the shadowed forms above, setting his jaw. “We accept!”

“Excellent. We will. Be in touch.”

X X X X X X X

Standing outside of the building that housed the arena, the whole ordeal felt surreal. The only reminders of the intense performance were the sweat that covered Gordon and the weakness of his legs. He felt like he could sleep for a month. Di couldn’t get here to pick him up soon enough. His partner looked better only through the virtue of being made of metal. No sweat. But they did look tired, slumped against the grey brick of the building.

“Bet you can’t wait to get home, huh bud?” Gordon asked, offering a tired smile.

“huh,” They turned their head to look at him, then quickly jerked it in the other direction. “...oh yeah. can’t wait to get back to the gamer pad.”

That was a weird response, even from Benrey. Gordon raised an eyebrow.

“Something wrong?”

“whuh. no. _you’re_ wrong.” They mumbled in reply. Still refusing to look at him.

Okay. Maybe they were still bugged by the judgement or something. Changing the subject then.

“Doooo you have someone picking you up? It looks like it might rain. Diana and I can give you a ride, if you need one.”

That got no response at all.

“...Benrey? Did I do something wrong?”

“fuckin’. no man.” Benrey groaned in exasperation. “just like, you know, you don’t gotta rub it in.”

Blinking, Gordon tilted his head. “...Rub what in?”

“that you have a house and junk.”

Oh. Oh, that would do it. Once again, Gordon felt like an ass for assuming things about Benrey’s life. 

“I...didn’t know, man. I’m sorry.”

“s’okay.” They replied, though it clearly wasn’t.

For a few minutes, there was nothing but silence between them. Then Gordon’s conscience wouldn’t let him keep quiet any longer.

“Hey...I mean, there’s not a lot of space at my house but…”

The lights of Benrey’s eyes turned on him, wide and hopeful. How could he reject a face like that?

“...Wanna come stay at my place for a bit?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Color translation from the screens: blue to grey like tin means "I'm filled with determination!"
> 
> I've officially run out of buffer, so updates will be a little slower now. I'll try to update once a week at the very least. I do have some big life changes coming up that I'll have to work around, so hang in there with me!
> 
> As always, you can find me at: https://stillstandingsurvivor.tumblr.com/


	7. Chapter Six

“Benny?”

Over the past week, Benrey had started to get used to the squeaky voice of baby Freeman. It wasn’t exactly a choice; the kid rarely shut up after a day or two of initial shyness. Benrey had been fielding questions ranging from “Why are you so short?” (rude.) to “Why aren’t you a cowboy?” (???). They had no idea how to act around kids, so they’d just answered the way they normally would. Gordon didn’t seem to care for their bluntness, but was relieved they’d stuck to one of the few rules he’d given them for shacking up here: don’t curse around Joshua.

Diana, for her part, fussed over them a bit. She’d been a bit skeptical about letting them into the household, if only because the living situation was cramped as is, but she gave in quickly when Gordon told her Benrey had no other place to go. Benrey had seen the same softness in her eyes that they’d seen in Gordon’s as the news had sunk in. They weren’t super stoked about the main reason they’d gotten to live here being pity, but hey. Roof. Really swanky. No more dirty dumpsters or dank (lol dank) overpasses for Benrey.

They’d actually taken up residence in the garage for the most part. Since they didn’t have to sleep, they didn’t need a bed or sofa, like Gordo did. And the place was soundproof, which was nice for someone like Benrey, who wasn’t super keen on a lot of noise. That, combined with the fact that the physicist had nearly jumped out of his skin on night one, when he woke up to see Benrey’s glowing LEDs in the corner of the living room. The drummer figured that the least they could do was not cramp Freeman’s style by lurking over him every night when he slept. Even if watching Gordon sleep was a lot more entertaining than staring at the garage ceiling.

Oops. Unepic gamer momence: Benrey had just zoned out for a solid five minutes after baby Freeman had talked to them. They were just standing in the hallway like some weird cryptid. Fucking lame of them to ignore the little dude. 

Blinking slowly at the small figure of the four year old, Benrey popped their lips and shifted to face the child. “what's good, tiny gordo.”

Joshua’s face screwed up in a little scowl almost identical to his father’s. “I’m Joshie.”

“yeah.” They replied, like that had been exactly what they said. “what’s good?”

“It’s bedtime. Why’re you up?

Tricky question. Well, sort of. The problem was that they didn’t really sleep. Like they’d remembered before, it was boring in the garage. That’s why they’d started a habit of going up in the attic when everyone was asleep.

Or almost everyone, they guessed.

“why’re _you_ up?” They retorted, squinting suspiciously at the kid.

Haha, check and mate, mini Gordo. Joshua immediately looked guilty, and a little embarrassed. “...I thought you were the easter bunny.”

“buh?” Well. That certainly hadn’t been what Benrey was expecting. “...it is like. waaaay past easter, lil dude.”

Josh made a ‘iunno’ sound, shrugging his tiny shoulders. “I thought maybe the easter bunny secretly lived here.”

“bummer. it’s just me, sorry.”

“That’s okay.” The child looked up at them, and frowned again. “...so why are YOU up?”

Benrey considered lying for a second. But they were kinda shit at lying, and kids tended to catch on fast anyway. Instead, they squatted down to Joshua’s level, fixing him with an intense stare.

“can lil feetman keep a secret?”

Instantly, Joshie stood up straighter, matching Benrey’s stare with a solemn nod. “I’m the best secret keeper. One time daddy let me have five candy even though I’m s’posed to only have one.” He told them, matter of factly. “And I never tattled to mama.”

“cool. one sec.”

Benrey stood again and walked to the attic’s pull cord. They had to stand on their tip-toes to get a hold of it, but they’d done this a couple times at this point, and managed to catch and tug down the attic ladder with very little trouble. That done, they made their way back to Joshua, and crouched with their back to them, wordlessly beckoning the child to ride piggyback while they navigated the ladder.

Up in the dusty gloom of the attic, the android sang a few notes of Sweet Voice as quietly as they could, illuminating the space in a soft yellow light. The box of Gordon’s university stuff was still out, where they had left it. Taking Joshua to the little area they’d swept clean of dust, Benrey sat down and began to open the container.

Joshie watched curiously over their shoulder, supported by one of the drummer’s arms. “What’s that?” He asked, as Benrey carefully set aside the diploma and pulled the poster Gordon had been so quick to hide.

“s’a thing for a band.

“What’s it say?”

Benrey laid the poster out on the floor in front of them. Gently, almost reverently, they pressed their hand across the faded ink, smoothing out creases from previous moves. The page featured three cartoonish skeletons in the center, each playing a different instrument. Above them, the words…

“bare bones.”

Shifting on their back, Joshua cocked his head to look first at the poster, and then at Benrey.

“...Benny?”

“yeah lil feetman?”

“Are you sad?”

Benrey didn’t say anything for a long time. When they did speak again, it was with a question of their own.

“wanna hear a song?”

Joshua didn’t much like when people didn’t answer his questions. But Benny seemed like they didn’t want to talk about being sad, so instead of pressing the matter, he just nodded. 

Sweet Voice trickled down the attic ladder and into the hallway for a good half hour. By the time the small orbs of sky blue faded from the air, Benrey had already tucked Joshua back in bed and headed out to the garage. Like nothing had happened at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sweet Voice Translation:   
> Pale yellow like old glue means "I'm doing my best to put my trust in you."  
> Sky blue like the tears of a lad means "I am very, very sad."
> 
> We can have a Benrey chapter, as a treat. Lil peek into their motives and some bonding with Joshua! It's a bit short, but we'll be back to the action in the next chapter.
> 
> As always, feel free to say hi or ask questions at: https://stillstandingsurvivor.tumblr.com/


	8. Chapter Seven

“A lava lamp is a decorative lamp, invented in 1963 by British entrepreneur Edward Craven Walker, the founder of the lighting company Mathmos. The lamp consists of a bolus of a special colored wax mixture inside a glass vessel, the remainder of which contains clear or translucent liquid; the vessel is then placed on a box containing an incandescent light bulb whose heat causes temporary reductions in the density of the wax and surface tension of the liquid. The warmed wax rises through the surrounding liquid, cools, loses its buoyancy, and falls back to the bottom of the vessel in a cycle that is visually suggestive of pāhoehoe lava, hence the name.”

Benrey turned their head to Gordon sluggishly. For someone who didn’t need to sleep, they almost always seemed on the edge of just napping out wherever they sat. If they were at rest anyway. Gordon didn’t necessarily blame them right now; the walk to the Chi District tower wasn’t exactly the most thrilling of journeys.

“bro I don’t even...I didn’t even understand like...half those words.” They complained.

“It’s just the Wikipedia page for lava lamps,” Gordon told them, shifting his phone back into his pocket. “I was wondering about them because, you know. Chi Tower?”

“oh yeah…” The drummer looked at the structure on the horizon, contemplating the massive bubbles of wax that flowed up and down its sides. “...why’s it look like that?”

“I guess Doc-...DJ Coomer just has a thing for disco aesthetics.”

“uh...you holdin’ out on info there feetman? stumbling over your words is like...super sus.”

Gordon shook his head with a sigh. “No, I just...it never came up before. But Coomer was one of my college professors. My favorite, actually. I think it wasssss...my Junior year? When he retired. It was really out of the blue, too. And then the next year he joined N.S.R.”

“oh. that’s sucks.”

“Yeah. I guess I was mad at him for a while.” Embarrassed, he looked down at his feet, pretending to be interested in the pavement instead of his words. “Felt sort of...abandoned? Even though he didn’t really owe me anything, I was just one of probably a million students he met.

“...and now I’m doing the same thing. Maybe he went into this for the same reasons I did? But it was just too hard to change things by himself and so he just went along with N.S.R.’s shadier shit-”

A feeling like a mild static shock hit the side of Gordon’s head. Startling, he turned to his partner, who was...spitting balls of blue Sweet Voice at him. Annoyance tightened his shoulders for a split second before a slow sense of calm oozed through his body.

“Wha-?”

“calm down?” Benrey replied, cocking their head at him. “you’re freaking out over stuff you don’t even know for sure. chill out. please, for best friend benrey?”

“Did you just. Tranquilize me with your voice?”

“yeah. epic, right?”

“...Kinda yeah, actually.” Gordon admitted. “But don’t do that again unless I ask, okay?”

The android nodded solemnly at him, removing one hand from their hoodie pocket. They held it out to him, pinky extended.

For a second, the guitarist was a bit lost. Then it clicked in his head what they were trying to do, and he scoffed. “Seriously?”

Benrey’s stoic face gave up absolutely nothing. “pinky swears are serious business, gordo. wouldn’t joke about pinky swears.”

Once again, in the face of stress, Gordon found himself laughing. He smiled softly as he extended his own hand and wrapped his little finger around Benrey’s. “Okay, okay. I’ll try to stop worrying so much.”

“the pact is sealed.”

“Annnnnd the moment is ruined.” Despite his words, the physicist nudged his partner playfully. “Let’s get a move on. Don’t want to keep Dr. Coomer waiting.”

X X X X X X X

Gordon had never actually been inside Chi Tower. Passing through the doors of the building took you into a sort of reception area where you paid a cover charge. It wasn’t anything special, just a long room to accommodate lines, and a large, semicircular desk where several cashiers sat to receive guests. Gentle overhead light lit green and blue tie-dye patterns on both the ceiling and walls. Even in this separate area music could be heard, thumping from subtly placed speakers.

It was earlier in the day than the tower usually operated. Gordon had a feeling that N.S.R. had scheduled it so that Bad Bones Junction’s battle with DJ Coomer wouldn’t interfere with the night club’s hours.

One of the cashiers, clearly bored with nothing to do, perked up when the pair of musicians wandered in. They smiled, standing up to wave them over.

“Mr. Freeman! Mx. Benrey! Hi!” They chirped. “Oh my god, I loved your audition. You guys were amazing!”

Surprised, Gordon flushed, smiling bashfully and scratching the back of his head. In all of his plans, he’d forgotten to account for gaining fans. It felt...really nice to be acknowledged, even if he felt kinda unworthy at the same time. “Oh! Oh, uh, thank you. Like, so much.”

“I know this is super unprofessional, but, um, before you go in…” The cashier plucked up a satchel from under their seat and rummaged through it. After a moment, they produced a small, purple notebook and opened it to a blank page. “...could I get your autograph? Pretty please?”

“pog, bro.” Gordon heard Benrey almost whisper from behind him.

The guitarist beamed. “Y-yeah! Yeah, of course.”

Squealing in excitement, the cashier handed over the notebook and a pen. Their coworkers rolled their eyes good naturedly and one of them-a woman-called over to them as Gordon started signing.

“Ink, are you going to let them know the name of their biggest fan?” She drawled, leaning back in her chair with a smirk.

Ink went bright red. “Oh...ohmygosh how embarrassing. Sorry. I-I’m Ink Olsen.”

“Nice to meet you, Ink.” Gordon flashed them a small grin as he tried to pass the signature book over to Benrey.

Benrey simply stared at it.

“...Don’t you wanna sign?” The physicist asked him.

They blinked. Looked at Gordon. Looked at Ink. Pointed to themselves with a puzzled look on their face.

“Yeah, they said they want both of our autographs. Right, Ink?”

“Yes, please!” Ink answered instantly. “I-if that’s okay! I just...I was really excited seeing someone nonbinary, like me…”

Almost reverently, Benrey took the notebook and pen. One or two orbs of soft lilac Sweet Voice slipped out of their mouth as they traced out their name more carefully than Gordon had seen them do anything. He was suddenly left with the impression that if Benrey had been capable, they’d be blushing. The drummer thrust the autographed notebook back into Gordons hands and looked away, clearly swallowing down more Sweet Voice. Gordon patted them on the shoulder in encouragement before returning the items to their owner.

Ink tucked them away with a little excited wiggle, then turned back to the musicians. “Thank youuu! Good luck with the DJ. He’s waiting for you inside the main dance hall.”

The cashier pressed a button, and the two sets of double doors swung open. Beyond the threshold, the bandmates could see flashing tiles on the floor. Everything else was too dim to make out.

A cold hand wrapped around Gordon’s. Benrey was standing next to him, staring into the dark with a frown. Hesitating for just a moment, the guitarist allowed his fingers to weave between the ‘bot’s and gave their hand a small squeeze.

“You good?” He asked them

“uh. yeah.” They mumbled back, sounding very not good. “sometimes a bro just wants to hold hands. no biggie.”

“Okay.” There was no need to push the issue. And honestly, no more time to stall. 

Taking a deep breath, Gordon took a step onto the dance floor, tugging Benrey with him gently. The door to the lobby shut behind them, plunging them into further darkness. Benrey’s fingers dug into his skin, and he leaned closer to them.

“...Hello? Doctor Coomer?”

Lime-tinted spotlights kicked on overhead, sweeping the floor in beat to the music. They converged on the center of the room, where there was...a boxing ring? Now that Gordon thought of it, Coomer had mentioned that he used to box in his younger days. In the center of the ring, a figure rose up dramatically from a trap door. Or it would have been dramatic, if the figure wasn’t a plump, grandfatherly looking man in a bright green and beaker-themed disco shirt and ridiculously sparkly bell-bottom pants.

Doctor “DJ” Harold P. Coomer grinned past his moustache at his old student, a mischievous glint in his bright green eyes.

“Ah! Hello, Gordon!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEEEEEEEEERE'S COOMER!
> 
> Hey, I had my wisdom teeth taken out yesterday, but I'm BACK BAY BEE! Once again I didn't mean to add in more exposition, but once again I did it anyway +Frenrey soft moments. Also thanks wikipedia for the first paragraph of this chapter. 
> 
> While I was gone I drew the bosses, and if you don't mind spoilers you can look at those here: https://stillstandingsurvivor.tumblr.com/post/630468678054543360/yall-wanna-see-some-bad-bones-jukebox-boss
> 
> EDIT: I forgot to translate Benrey's sweet voice! Purple pastel means "You've flattered me well."
> 
> Love yall, p come and ask me questions or just say hi: https://stillstandingsurvivor.tumblr.com


	9. Chapter Eight

Someone pretty wise once said, “Don’t meet your heroes.” That was sound advice, in Gordon’s opinion, but did it count for people who became your hero after you met them?

Dr. Coomer had been very kind, if a bit quirky, when Gordon had been going to university. He was Gordon’s advisor for freshman year, then a confidant and mentor for the sophomore and the beginning of the junior years. When he’d all but disappeared, it had hurt. Maybe it was Gordon’s fault for getting so attached, but rational thought didn’t help the sting he felt from Coomer’s cheerful greeting. He nodded stiffly, hand tightening around Benrey’s. 

The ‘bot cleared their throat and stepped forward. “uh yo disco grandpa, we gonna fight now or what?”

“Well, yes,” Coomer’s ever-present smile faltered, just for a moment. “But first, I want to say a few things. Don’t worry, the cameras won’t come on until I signal them to.”

“yo there’s cameras?” Benrey mumbled in confusion, flicking their eyes about the room in a cartoonishly suspicious manner. They dropped Gordon’s hand like a hot potato.

“...I don’t really feel like talking doc-DJ Coomer.” The guitarist sighed. “Can’t we just get this over with?”

“In due time, Gordon.” Coomer dropped his confident stance, lowering his eyes to the canvas below him. “I have some things to apologize for. I...know I left the school rather abruptly. And I meant to keep in touch with you, but I honestly thought that after going into N.S.R. you probably wouldn’t want to hear from me.”

Gordon stared up at his former teacher, the tension in his shoulders easing just a bit. “...I wasn’t sure if you’d even remember me.”

“Of course I remember you, Gordon! You were my favorite student!”

Benrey’s hand snatched the physicist’s again. “no fair bro, I saw him first.” They growled.

“I. No, Benrey, you literally didn’t. I knew Coomer in school, remember?”

“...oh yeah.”

“I would never try to get in the way of your budding romance, Benrey!” DJ Coomer chimed in, a cheery note back in his voice.

“buh-!” Once again, the drummer yanked their hand away from Gordon’s. “what’re you talking about, there no buds. just bros. shut up.”

This wasn’t a conversation Gordon was expecting. Budding romance? What the hell was Coomer talking about? And the way Benrey reacted-

“I have one more confession to make, Gordon, and I hope you can forgive me.”

Oh right. They were in the middle of some sort of bizarre heart-to-heart with his old university teacher. On a disco-themed club’s dance floor. With a boxing ring in the middle of it. When had Gordon’s life gotten so strange?

Coomer had wandered over to the ropes on the edge of the ring, and was now leaning on them. He looked sad again. It was almost unsetting to see such a tired expression on the face of someone who was normally so bright. “I was the second X during the auditions, Gordon.”

There was that sting again. A tiny throb of hurt from a wound Gordon really thought had healed by now. Someone who he’d looked up to had rejected him, almost blown his chance at a better life. What kind of mentor knowingly did that?

Fists tightened, nails dug into his palms, teeth clenched. A low, slow anger bubbled up inside him. That wasn’t fair! Bad Bones Jukebox had played their hearts out, they were good! Maybe better than good! And “DJ” Coomer had almost thrown them in the garbage, just like he had their friendship.

“Why?” Gordon spat. “Because your boss didn’t think we were good enough for your little club? Because YOU didn’t!?”

Flinching at the venom in his former student’s words, the older man shook his head. “No, Gordon, of course not-”

“Then WHY!?”

“At first, I told myself it was because I wanted to see how you did under pressure.” Coomer’s voice had gone quieter than Gordon had ever heard it. “But that was a lie. I was afraid, Gordon.”

The solemn admission hit Gordon like a slap in the face. “...Afraid?” The younger man echoed, disbelief and hurt mixing in his tone.

He barely felt it when Benrey, who had been watching this conversation like a particularly riveting tennis match, slunk their way behind him. Gordon jumped when they rested their head on his right shoulder. The gesture was catlike. Not wanting to make a big deal of things, but wanting to comfort. Gordon appreciated it immensely, once again letting himself relax just a little.

“Yes,” Coomer continued, unable to meet the guitarist’s eyes. “I was afraid that if you got into N.S.R., that would be it for me. There have been...whispers. Some people think G-Man is going to fire one of us to replace you. If he does, it will be the one who is bringing in the least electricity. And that’s me.

“It was a terribly selfish thing for me to do, especially over a rumor. Especially after I saw how wonderful you two were.” The former scientist raised his head again, staring up at the dark ceiling with glistening eyes. “I was so proud, Gordon. I always told you you could do whatever you set your mind to. And you did! It’s wonderful.”

Lazy afternoons having lunch in Coomer’s office, listening to him talk about his old boxing days, drifted back from the vault Gordon had shoved them in. Nights where the doctor had sat up far past his office hours to help a young Mr. Freeman with a particularly rough assignment. Laughs shared at the pranks the old man pulled on the rest of the staff. A whole lot of good times.

But it still hurt.

“I’m so sorry, Gordon. If I could take that strike back, I would.” His former mentor finally finished.

“...It’s. Not okay, but…” The physicist’s words came out haltingly. He felt his partner’s arms wrap around him and squeeze. Gently, like he’d done earlier with their hand. “...No matter what happens after this, you have to make it up to me by taking us out to dinner or something. I don’t want you disappearing again.”

Slowly, cautiously, a warm smile drifted onto Coomer’s face. “Oh, that sounds wonderful, Gordon. I would love to catch up with you after you’re less busy!”

“Yeah. Me too.” Gordon said. And he really meant it.

“Excellent!” The DJ turned back into the center of the ring. As he made his way back to the place he’d started, he produced a pair of strange looking gloves and tugged them on. “I’ll be turning the cameras on then, so please do get your instruments ready. And, Gordon?”

The younger man looked up from undoing the latches on his guitar case. “Yeah, Dr. Coomer?”

With a snap of his mentor’s fingers, the room burst into illumination. Several fist shaped disco balls had dropped from the roof, along with bright white and green lights, causing specks to dance around the room. Coomer flexed his hands, and Gordon watched in amazement as the mirror-covered fists did as well. The old man dropped into a fighting stance, the mischievous grin he’d entered with returning.

“Don’t expect me to go easy on you just because I like you, my good bitch!”

There was the Coomer he knew. Despite himself, Gordon snorted and shook his head, slipping his guitar strap around himself. 

“You’re on, buddy!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Hands you exposition* *Hands you character backstory* *Hands you not even hidden Frenrey* *Hands you exposition*
> 
> I promise I'm not putting off writing the fight scene! When I write I just kinda let things flow, and apparently my flow wanted feels this time.
> 
> (pst)  
> (hey)  
> (come see me at https://stillstandingsurvivor.tumblr.com/ )
> 
> (ps I may be working on an ask blog. It's not for this au but it is HLVRAI, and I intend to start it after this fic's done so stay tuned for that.)


	10. Chapter Nine

The rules that N.S.R. had contacted them with had been fairly straightforward: Both bands would face off at the district leader’s HQ, and each would play a song. Whichever performance generated the most electricity would be declared the winner. The email _hadn’t_ said anything about fist-shaped disco balls flying around the room, but Gordon wasn’t exactly surprised that this competition held the same level of difficulty as the auditions had.

At least DJ Coomer seemed to be enjoying himself. The old man was jiving to his own beat, spinning on his heels in a way that belied his age. His dance moves, which controlled both the attacking fists and the music, were some funky combination of the Hustle and boxer-puncher style fisticuffs. If Gordon hadn’t been so busy ducking and dodging, he would have found the fusion fascinating.

As it was, he’d already taken some mirrored knuckles to his cheek and chest, and was struggling to find his footing. Benrey wasn’t doing much better, the guitarist noted when he managed to catch a glimpse of his partner stumbling from a blow to their back. They were both quick on their feet when they needed to be, but Coomer was faster and had more hands at his disposal.

Gordon yelped as he just managed to dip out of the path of three fists at once. The song sounded like it was nearing its end, so of course the attacks were ramping up to match the intensity. A cracking sound split the air, and the physicist whipped his head back towards his partner. They had hit the floor and weren’t moving.

“Ben-” His cry of alarm was cut off by a blow to the gut, the air whooshing out of him all at once. Gordon’s ears rang, his vision blurred. Was he on his knees? Maybe? Which way was up?

“I’m sorry, Gordon. I warned you I wouldn’t go easy.” Faintly, he heard his mentor’s voice, a tinge of melancholy in his normally bright tone.

With a grunt, the younger man managed to crawl out of range of the next projectile. It struck the floor with an audible crunch. Holy shit, Coomer really hadn’t been kidding. Shaking his head in an attempt to clear his swimming vision, Gordon dragged himself over to Benrey’s motionless form.

“Benrey,” He wheezed, placing a hand on their cheek. One of their eyes was cracked where it had taken the brunt of a punch to their face. “B-Ben, buddy, you still with me?”

There was a whirring noise as the undamaged eye lit up again faintly. “huh?” Came the familiar reply.

Gordon sagged a bit in relief, only to hiss through his teeth as one of the flying hands shoved him over. At least Coomer wasn’t punching him while he was down. “Y-you...you okay? Your eye…”

“mmh…” They ghosted a hand over the dull, cracked glass. “fix it later…”

A countdown flashed to life on the dance floor tiles under the two. 10.

“Do you need-” Gordon hesitated. They’d come so far. But Benrey was clearly hurt pretty bad. “...you need to give up?”

9.

Something seemed to click in the bot’s head, and their remaining eye focused in on Gordon’s face. “y-yo, man...gordo care benrey?”

8.

The question was phrased so weirdly that the guitarist coughed out a laugh. “Yeah. Gordon care Benrey. But do you need to stop, man?”

7.

The bot considered this as numbers flashed under them, tinting the bandmates’ faces red. Finally they rolled onto their side, then pulled their legs under themself to stand up. 

“i’m not gonna pussy out now.” Benrey muttered. They reached over, hooking an arm around Gordon and hauling him to his feet. The countdown paused at 2 and the music overhead faded out.

Coomer stood, catching his breath in the center of the ring. He was watching them with a wide grin stretching beneath his mustache, eyes crinkled in pure pride as he watched the members of Bad Bones Jukebox stubbornly refusing to give in. It reminded him of himself at their age. Maybe a little of someone else too…

“Well!” The ex-scientist huffed, putting his hands on his hips. “That was invigorating! Now it’s your turn. Let me have it!”

It was almost second nature for Gordon now, taking a stand next to Benrey. Something about it felt...triumphant. Benrey, despite their injury, counted them in just like always. And with one powerful chord, the pair of them launched into the song that would decide their future.

X X X X X X X

“I can’t fucking believe you let them win.” Snapped Coomer’s companion as he held an ice pack to the back of the former boxer’s head.

DJ Coomer laughed cheerfully, then winced a little as the jostling sent a sharp pain through his skull. “I didn’t _let_ them win, Bubby. They won because their performance was spectacular!”

Bubby scowled harder. Quite a feat, considering his default expression was a frown and that he was already quite displeased by the state his husband was in. “Who in the hell programs their tower to allow challengers to take over their weapons?” He grumbled.

“Me!” The reply was earnest and caused the taller man to groan in frustration. “Oh Bubby, it’s no fun to have a fight where your opponent can’t hit back! It’s alright if you don’t understand.”

“I really, really don’t.”

Harold just beamed serenely. Bubby rolled his eyes and checked the progress of the swelling he was trying to get to go down.

“Well, whatever. They’re not going to get past me. I play to fucking WIN.”

Coomer patted Bubby’s hand reassuringly. “I know, love. Can I have a kiss?”

His husband grumbled something unintelligible under his breath, but gave him a quick peck nonetheless. “I’m gonna fuck them up for bruising you.”

“Oh, Bubby…”

X X X X X X X

Sitting at his kitchen table, Gordon Freeman turned the platinum disc that served as the Chi district’s charter over and over in his hands. The weight of the metal was the only thing that was allowing him to believe that their victory was real. Diana had fussed over him quite a bit when they’d come home, but by now her attention was on Benrey.

“I’m no mechanic, I’m not good with machines,” She insisted, though she scrubbed scuffs off of their chassis and noted down dents to be repaired later. 

They had money for repairs now. They had money for a lot of things now. Apparently there was a substantial reward waiting for them with each N.S.R artist. Compensation for their time, in case they didn’t make it all the way through, apparently...

“And you’re sure this doesn’t hurt?” Diana asked Benrey, gently swiping a thumb under the broken lens of their eye. She was just as touchy-feely as Gordon, once she got used to someone.

Benrey had become passive under her doting, clearly unused to it and unsure of how to react. They nodded at her question, kicking their legs in rhythm from their seat on the table. It was adorable, though Gordon wasn’t about to say so and catch nasty looks from both of them. 

Or...would Benrey get flustered instead?

 _Mmm, that’s a question for Future Gordon._ The physicist thought, finally setting the charter disc down on the table. _Too much happened today for me to contemplate an A.I.’s possible crush on me._

“I’m gonna go read Joshie a bedtime story.” He told them. “You two good out here?”

“Mmhm,” Di replied without looking. “I’m just gonna do one more pass here, to make sure nothing’s rattling around that shouldn’t be.”

“Alright. Good luck, Benrey, she’s not gonna let you up until she’s sure she’s done all she can for you.” Gordon teased before heading into the hall.

“noooooo,” The bot droned, but made no move to get up or resist as Diana took one of their hands and carefully began moving each joint.

No one noticed as Gordon’s phone, left forgotten on the kitchen counter, lit up with a message.

“Hello, Mr. Freeman. I have some information on the next district leader...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to mention last chapter that Coomer's using a modified version of Imogen Heap's mi.mu gloves! They're fascinating, I recommend looking them up if you're interested in tech that influences music.
> 
> Also sorry for the absence, my brain hyperfixated on my other HLVRAI project for three days straight and I drew like 42 icons while listening to the Kowabana podcast. More on that soon, I'm probably abouttttt 40% done with prep for that. Might even launch it by Halloween! That'd be ideal considering its horror based.
> 
> Anyway, as always, you can come visit me over at https://stillstandingsurvivor.tumblr.com/ . Come say hi or ask questions about BBJ!


	11. Chapter Ten

“You think it’s like. I donno, some kind of test?”

Benrey turns their head slowly, single eye squinting at their bandmate’s face for a second in the harsh light from the overhead bulbs. “bro, no one ever said we had to do blind boss runs.”

Gordon whined softly in anxiety, biting his lip as he stared down at the phone that had been all but attached to his right hand since he’d read the mysterious message at breakfast. He didn’t know how Benrey could be so unconcerned. This was clearly suspicious. Why would someone-who was clearly close to at least one NSR agent!-risk sending them information so that they could be prepared when they faced the next challenge?

But then, Benrey was a bit distracted right now. Since Gordon had never really been close with an AI before them, he was ashamed to admit that he didn’t really know what it was like when they got repairs. Judging by the swiveling dental light above them and the automatic chair his friend was laid out in, it was a lot like going to get your teeth fixed. He couldn’t exactly blame them for being focused on not freaking the fuck out; who the hell didn’t feel anxiety when going to a dental procedure. Or...would it be a medical procedure? Hell if Gordon knew.

The point was, he was being kind of an asshole and could deal with the weird, probably-a-trap message later. Right now, it was Benrey time. More reluctantly than he’d like to admit, Gordon locked his phone and slid it into his pockets. Now that he was paying full attention, he felt terrible for not noticing how stressed the drummer was. They were locked into a rigid plank on the lowered chair, functioning eye locked onto the ceiling once again.

Gordon hadn’t seen them so tense since he’d first introduced them to Di and Joshua. It wasn’t surprising, when he thought about it. Benrey wasn’t an especially touchy person unless they knew you, and they were incredibly protective of themself when it came to people examining their body. 

A couple times, when the two of them had been out on walks after practice, people had stopped to ask to ‘take a look at’ them. Benrey always shrunk back, shoving their hands into their hoodie pocket and bunching their shoulders up around their ears while Gordon explained that they were A.I. and therefore not for ‘looking at’, thanks asshole. Making themselves smaller, as if they might disappear from sight. Some people didn’t even wait for an answer before reaching for his friend, and he’d had to physically step in front of them to get the stranger to stop. It was wild what people thought they could just...do. Just because Benrey was metal instead of flesh.

Benrey always isolated themselves on days when that happened, not coming out of the garage until breakfast the next morning. Gordon couldn’t necessarily blame them. The number of times he’d had to tell off people for asking to touch his hair was fucking ridiculous, and he’d always done a similar vanishing act to his dorm room when it had happened in college.

In any case, it stood to reason that Benrey would also hate this. But that eye needed to be fixed, and there was god knows how many years of wear and tear on them. This repair had been a long time coming, and that was probably the only reason the drummer hadn’t leapt out of the chair and booked it down the street by now.

Trying to keep it as casual as possible, Gordon cleared his throat and turned his hand palm up. He lifted it slowly, like trying not to startle a skittish cat, until it hovered in the air between them. Benrey didn’t look. The guitarist cleared his throat again, flexing his fingers a little in an attempt to get their attention.

“...Can I get a hand, bud? I’m. Pretty shook up from the text message. You know?” He said, finally.

For the first time that day, Benrey’s lips curved upward. Just a little. “...s’kinda gay, bro. holding hands is, uh, like sixth base.”

“No it’s-That doesn’t make any sense. Benrey, we’ve held hands before.”

“yeah,” They said, their fingers twining with his. “i know. gaydon feetman.”

Gordon couldn’t stop himself from letting out a little snort. His thumb rubbed the smooth metal on the back of the drummer’s hand. “...Holding hands is first base, by the way.”

“nah. that’s kissing.”

“Oh my god, you are a literal child.” Gordon snickered.

Benrey simply squeezed his hand in response, their smile widening into a grin.

X X X X X X X

Despite the recommendations of the mechanic, Benrey had kept the black plastic on the top half of their face. They’d simply refused to cooperate with her until she’d dropped the matter, and Gordon could tell they felt pretty smug about it. He wouldn’t lie, it was kind of a neat look, the rugged plastic against the newly shined metal. Kind of charming, in that special Benrey way.

“gotta keep my brand,” They’d said stubbornly, and Gordon supported them whole-heartedly. 

The walk home was going slower than the one to Benrey’s appointment, the two bandmates shooting the shit about nothing in particular as the nightlife of Chi district began its slow wake up routine. Lights to bars flickered on, and the food stalls that lined main street’s shutters were pulled down as they closed for the night. Small groups of college kids drifted past them in clothes that made Gordon feel way too old for “not getting” how trends these days were going. Yikes, he’d even thought “these days”.

He almost didn’t notice Benrey had stopped moving until he made a dad joke and the bot didn’t groan at him. When the guitarist turned to locate them, they were a few yards back, plastered to the front window of a pawn shop. Gordon jogged back, head cocked to try and see what had them so enthralled.

“What’re you lo-” Was all he got out before Benrey whirled on him and lunged forward to cover his eyes with their hands. “Ben…?”

“no peeking bro, super unepic of you.” They answered. “turn around? please? for best friend benrey?”

With a chuckle, the physicist closed his eyes and turned around. “Yeah, okay…you good though? I can’t read your mind, y’know.”

“I’m, like, so super good.” They said. Gordon heard the tiny tonal shift in their normally monotonous voice that meant they were actually incredibly excited about something. “wait here? okay? fifteen minutes tops, gordo, brb.”

“Alright, alright, just don’t take-” He caught the sound of the pawn shop’s bell. They were already inside. Whatever they’d seen had gotten them really riled up. “-forever.”

On his best days, Gordon had no problem being patient. Today was not one of his best; leaving him alone with his thoughts just led him back to the question of the day. Who would send him information on the district leader, and why? Sighing, he took out his phone and opened up the message again.

“Hello, Mr. Freeman. I have some information on the next district leader.” It began. Then it led in with a list, matter-of -fact bullet points about a man Gordon had never even thought he’d meet. Bubby Coomer (!?) was apparently an ex-office manager in his fifties who had gotten married to Harold P. Coomer ( _!?!? _ ) about two years ago. The wedding hadn’t been highly publicized. To summarize the other information: Bubby was tall and thin, and not terribly strong. This, however, didn’t matter much when the guy’s weapon of choice was apparently voice-activated pyrotechnics.

“That is...fucking terrifying.” Gordon muttered to himself as he scrolled to the last line of the message.

“Recommended strategy: get in close enough that Mr. Bubby won’t feel comfortable with the safety of activating the flames. Good Luck, Mr. Freeman.”

This whole situation was so fucking baffling.

The physicist jumped as a pair of metal hands landed on his shoulders. Benrey, accompanied by the rustle of a pair of plastic bags that Gordon could feel against his back, had reemerged from the store while he’d been agonizing about the message again. He started to turn to give his friend a questioning look, but they quickly reached up to hold his head in place.

“ah ah ah ah. no peeking bro.”

“What? I’m not allowed to turn around now?”

“nope. I’m nerfing your movement code, my dude.” They told him, and Gordon rolled his eyes as he heard the smirk in their voice.

“Benrey, how the hell are we supposed to walk home like this.”

“feetman does benrey a carry?”

“I’m. Not gonna carry you, dude.”

“boooo…” The drummer blew a raspberry at him. “fine-uh. guess I just gotta walk behind you like this the whole way.”

“That sounds like a pain in the ass.”

“yeah, but like in a sexy way, right?”

“God,” Gordon shook his head as much as the bot would allow him to, letting out a tired chuckle. “Fine. Let’s get going, I don’t wanna be late for dinner.”

“wooo, all aboard the feetman train!” Benrey trilled, a small stream of orange-to-white sweet voice floating past the guitarist’s head.

“What’s this one mean?” He asked, poking at one of the spheres. A gentle, warm current ran through his finger for a moment with the contact.

“uhhhhh. when orange is whitened it means I’m excited.”

“Oh.” Gordon supposed that sensation was what it would feel like to touch excitement. “...Cute.”

A few bubbles of reddish pink escaped into his line of sight before Benrey could wave them away. “wha-no, nuh uh. reverse uno. you.” They blurted.

Gordon just laughed and started the awkward journey home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gift? Gift.
> 
> Benrey feels the same as I do about medical procedures, and I may have based their anxiety on my own from a few weeks ago lol.
> 
> The slowburn Frenrey continues...
> 
> Sweet Voice translation: Blush means "I have a crush".
> 
> (Super secret project is now 80% done. I just have to finish the outline and a couple scenery shots. Def gonna be ready by Halloween~)


	12. Chapter Eleven

Benrey is full of surprises. Gordon has known this since he met them, but goddamn if it didn’t keep happening. For instance, after storing something in the garage that Gordon was apparently not allowed to see, they strutted into the house where the rest of the family was with the two plastic bags he had felt against his back when his partner had been behind him. One was deposited somewhat ceremoniously in front of Diana and Joshua each.

“Benny brought presents!” Joshie squealed, just barely stopping himself from grabbing at his plastic-concealed gift. His chubby little fingers gripped impatiently at the air as he looked up first at his parents, then at Benrey for permission to dig into it. “Can I..?”

“yeah, lil dude. go for it.” The A.I. replied as they hopped up onto the kitchen counter. The slightest of smirks crossed their lips as they watched the four year old just about stick his head into the bag in pursuit of the mystery prize.

An exaggerated gasp exploded from Joshua as he revealed a gently faded plastic figurine. It was articulated at all its joints and, best of all, shaped like a cowboy. 

“COWBOYYYYY!” Gordon’s son crowed, leaping out of his chair and racing off with the figure to do an excited lap around the house.

“Ah, Josh! Come say thank you!” Diana called after him. She got no response other than the sound of Joshua’s toy chest opening.

It was a ritual of sorts; whenever Joshie got a new cowboy, he had to take the others out and count them. Faintly, they could all hear the cries of “Cowboys one! Cowboys two!” starting up.

“...Sorry, I’ll make sure he says thanks properly later.” His mother sighed, shaking her head.

Benrey, whose smile had only widened with each time the word ‘cowboy’ had been said, shrugged gently. “it’s cool, mrs. d. i’m just glad mini gordo likes it.” 

Their eyes shifted over to her bag, meaningfully, and Gordon had to bite back a snort at how they were practically vibrating with excitement. Apparently whatever they’d gotten for Diana, they considered it just as good as getting Josh a cowboy.

“Mrs. D. What am I, your high school English teacher?” Di teased softly before retrieving her own gift. Instantly as it came into view, her smile dropped. 

At first, Gordon was worried that his bandmate had gotten her something horribly offensive, but as the figurine came into view he blinked in surprise. Its paint was a bit chipped, and the fabric of its hat was dusty from being on the pawn shop’s shelf for so long, but the craftsmanship that went into the wood carving was intricate. A nutcracker, clearly hand-made and well-loved, was cradled with care in Diana’s hands. Gordon watched warmth and softness flood his ex’s eyes. She loved nutcrackers, she had since she’d seen the ballet as a kid. In college, she’d told Gordon that she’d wanted a collection, but had never had the time or space to start one. How had Benrey known…?

Benrey, who had started to retreat into their hoodie when Di had stopped smiling, peeked at her from under the brim of their snapback. “...i uh. saw the framed poster in your room one time when you were talking to me in the hall. and yeah. is. it okay?”

Diana traced the painted grin on its face for a moment, then set it down carefully on the table before getting up to fold Benrey into a tight hug. 

“It’s better than okay, Benrey. Thank you…” She told them, giving them a squeeze that would probably pop any human’s back. “What’s the occasion?”

Benrey’s hands did a sort of flutter at their sides, then finally came up in a hesitant return of the embrace. “no reason. just, uh. you know. thanks for being epic and nice and stuff.” They mumbled into her shoulder.

Gordon flashed them a thumbs up when their eyes drifted over to meet his, and the genuine joy that lit up his partner’s face caused his heart to flutter. He’d never seen such a gentle smile on Benrey’s face, and it made his breath catch in his throat. Their eyes met the guitarist’s, and Gordon felt his cheeks flush a little.

The tender moment was broken very suddenly by the sound of an air horn blasting from Joshua’s room, along with a triumphant announcement of “COWBOYS 29, FEELIN’ FINE!”.

X X X X X X X

Relaxing on the couch post-dinner, the physicist sank comfortably into the worn cushions as Benrey set up the Freeman household’s old PS3 game console. Joshua was cuddled between his parents, already half asleep despite his insistence on watching the adults play. One of Diana’s arms was curled around her son, the other occupied as she scrolled the news feed on her phone.

As the startup sequence played, Benrey made their way over to the couch and passed a controller over to Gordon. They took a seat on the floor, leaning against the guitarist’s legs as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Maybe it was. The ‘bot had integrated into his family almost seamlessly at this point, and honestly? Gordon couldn’t complain if he wanted to. They made him laugh, they were good with Josh, they helped Diana around the house...Benrey was just Good People.

He was lucky to have met them.

The title screen for Portal 2 came up, interrupting the warm fuzziness that had started to consume him as he stared at the back of his friend’s head. Trying to ignore the knowing look Di shot him, Gordon wrenched his gaze up to the screen and cleared his throat. “So, uh, no present for Gordon, then?”

God, he was even starting to pick up on their speech patterns. No. Nope, that didn’t mean anything except that they spent a lot of time together. Which was perfectly justified. They were friends. In a band. Nothing more complex at all.

“whuh?” Benrey leaned their head back into Gordon’s lap to give him their full attention as they processed his words. His heart did a backflip.

_ You stop that!  _ The guitarist scolded himself. He selected co-op mode and waited for the two funky little robots to spawn in. “I, uh. Bad joke. I didn’t mean you had to get me anything.”

“oh. ooooh!” The drummer cracked a grin at him before looking back at the TV. “feeling neglected, bro? gordon needyman?”

P-body nearly went careening off a ledge as Gordon tried to splutter out a protest. “N-no, it was a joke-”

“Look out Benrey, you might hurt your boyfriend’s feelings if you only give me and Joshie gifts.” Diana snickered, not looking up from her phone. That got the both of them flustered enough that the room fell silent for a few minutes. 

“Tough crowd,” She murmured, looking a little embarrassed herself for having touched on something a little too real. “I’ll, uh...just put Josh to bed.”

The four year old let out a soft “noooo” as his mother gathered him up in her arms, but he was already snoring softly by the time Diana had stepped into the hallway.

The living room was filled with a heavy cloud of implications and the clicking of joysticks. Neither of the two remaining people wanted to be the first to address what their jokes had brought up. Eventually, Gordon felt Benrey shift against his legs, and he glanced down to meet their gaze again.

“...it’s not ready.”

“What?”

The ‘bot glanced away, a bit of the same reddish-pink Sweet Voice from earlier bubbling up and out from between their lips before they could stop it. They hastily waved their hand through the colored orbs, as if shooing a fly. “the. uh. the present I got you. it’s not ready.”

Immediately, Gordon softened, giving them a small, embarrassed smile. “I was just joking about the presents, man. You don’t gotta get me anything. I mean, you already gave me my shot with N.S.R., and that’s like. Life changing.”

“well. I got you something anyway. cuz you’re nice and stuff.” Benrey mumbled, finally looking back at their game. Almost inaudibly, he heard them say: “gordon sweetman.”

There was that flutter in his chest again.

“Well. Uh. Thank you. I bet it’s gonna be great.” The guitarist added awkwardly. “...Like, you’re way more observant than I gave you credit for. Not many people would have figured out Di’s nutcracker thing without her mentioning.”

“hell yeah dude. epic eyesight in these sockets, bay bee.”

Gordon snorted, and the tension hanging over their heads finally broke as Benrey joined him in his laughter with their own snickering. “God, you’re such a dork.”

“nah man. you.” They replied, and punctuated their sentence by purposefully removing a portal. P-Body went sailing into a pit.

“Hey, you did that on purpose!” Gordon exclaimed.

“not my fault you went the wrong way, gordon clumsyman. benrey is a good boy, did nothing wrong.”

“Oh, I’ll show you clumsy…”

The two of them spent the next few hours inconveniencing each other and trying not to laugh loud enough to wake Joshua, complicated feelings and stressful events of the day completely forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Found family time. Di's love of nutcrackers is based on 6 year old me; I used to watch my video tape of the nutcracker over and over. That's actually how I learned to rewind things! I also have a collection of nutcrackers that live on the fireplace mantle. I think I have one for every year since 1998 or '99? Idk there's SO MANY.
> 
> Meanwhile, in fic, Gordon's feelings are catching up to him. YOU CAN'T RUN FOREVER GORDON!!!
> 
> Apologies to the HLVRAI and NSR tags on tumblr because I posted all the chapters of BBJ on there today...sorry for spamming the tags guys...
> 
> (Urge to start posting to the Halloween blog a week early is rising, so to quell that I'll finally post the URL: https://kkrbvrai.tumblr.com/ . Check it out if you're interested in story-driven ask blogs! Story starts on 10/30/2020.)


	13. Chapter Twelve

Over the next five days, Gordon saw very little of Benrey outside of band practice. Despite the fact that they tried desperately to play it casual, he had some inkling that they were doing something in the corner of the garage. The main, most obvious thing was when the guitarist had noticed his ping pong table on its side, forming the wall of...some kind of fort? That’s what it looked like.

Benrey had repurposed the table, a couple of plastic lawn chairs, a broom that the Freeman household would definitely need back soon, a tarp, and some christmas lights that Gordon had honestly thought were too hopelessly tangled to ever use again. It sagged slightly on the side near the wall, but Benrey had expressly forbidden him from coming within three feet of the thing, so despite how his hands twitched when he saw it, he couldn’t do anything to fix it.

When the A.I. wasn’t in their makeshift tent, they were either out of the house or practicing for the upcoming battle with Bubby. Gordon understood that they were free to do their own thing-and wouldn’t dream of telling them any different!-but…

Well, as loathe as he was to admit it, he missed hanging out with them. The ‘bot, had wormed their way into his heart like some kind of...heartworm. God, even his metaphors were off. Still he doubted this would last forever. According to Joshua, who WAS allowed inside Benrey’s fort, the distance had to do with Gordon’s surprise gift. He hadn’t been able to get any other info out of his son, even though he’d tried to bribe the kid with sweets. Out of Diana’s earshot of course. The physicist had to admit that he was equal parts proud and annoyed with how well Joshie was keeping his promise not to tell him anything.

Like it or not, Gordon just had to wait out the days until Benrey was ready to give him his gift. But after five days he felt like he was going to go nuts if he didn’t have a conversation with them that wasn’t about planning their set. So finally he cleared his throat as he put away his guitar, and spoke up.

“You, uh, wanna come when I have lunch with Dr. Coomer next week?”

Benrey cocked their head, blinking owlishly at him. “...iunno man, aren’t you like. supposed to be reconnecting and junk? character arc development?”

Gordon shrugged, not looking directly at them so they wouldn’t see the disappointment on his face. “I mean yeah, but he’s probably gonna bring his husband…”

“oooh, gordon third wheel momence?”

“No! I mean, yeah, kind of. But also like…” The physicist ran a hand through his hair nervously, trying to find the right words to say ‘I just want you there’. “...I don’t wanna go alone. Coomer disappearing was kind of a big deal, and I’m nervous seeing him again.”

Benrey considered this, looking up at the ceiling and smacking their lips in thought. “...yeah, aight. if you reeeeally can’t go without your daily dose of benrey.”

A snort exploded out of Gordon, despite the fact that there was a nagging hint of truth to his friend’s words. “Cool. Thanks, man.”

“what’re bros for?”

“Yeah,” Gordon finished lamely. Seemed like he wasn’t going to be able to hang out with Benrey today either.

The drummer shuffled over to their fort, which was Gordon’s cue to leave. He sighed and started for the door, only to find a gentle grip on his wrist preventing him from moving forward. The guitarist looked down into the glowing eyes of his friend, who was halfway hidden by the tarp flap that served as the fort’s exit.

“...Hey.” Gordon said, when Benrey hadn’t moved to explain themselves after a solid minute of eye contact.

“...hey,” They replied softly. 

A blush-colored ball of sweet voice flickered softly behind their teeth. Gordon pretended not to see it. 

“you uh. wanna come see my epic fort?”

Only when Gordon nodded did Benrey remove their hand from him. They scooted back, disappearing into the structure with a single motion for their friend to follow. With a grunt, Gordon lowered himself to his hands and knees before entering the makeshift structure.

He had to admit, the christmas lights really added warmth to the small space. Considering it was basically just a bunch of junk that Benrey had jury-rigged, it was actually kind of cozy. A few missing blankets and pillows had apparently found their way to the floor of the fort, but the physicist couldn’t find it in himself to complain about it. Benrey deserved their own space, just like anyone else. And it’s not like the blankets they were using were super needed by anyone else in the household.

It was a bit cramped with two adults inside, but Benrey still managed to find space between them for a guitar case. They hauled it over to the slim spot not currently occupied by their knees, clasps facing Gordon, and looked up at him expectantly. It was the same look they’d gotten when they’d given Di her nutcracker, but...more so. 

Wordlessly, carefully, like something might snap if he went at this too fast, Gordon opened the case.

His breath caught in his throat, and for a moment he thought his heart would stop.

The guitar was a bright, gaudy orange with accents of silver all around the edge of the body, tuners, and frets. The pickups looked like some kind of glass, and through them Gordon could see a gentle, blue light. The body of the guitar was shaped like an upside-down V, and the neck was at a slight angle. He realized all at once that the guitar was shaped like a lambda symbol. Had Benrey done that, or was the guitar like that when they’d seen it in the store…?

Reverently, the physicist scooped the instrument into his arms. It struck him after a second that there were no strings, but he had a feeling…

Gordon ran his hand across where the strings should have been, and felt a spark. Like static shock, but so much more gentle. A rainbow bloomed at his fingertips, producing a soft, pure chord that broke the pregnant silence that had surrounded them. Benrey watched the starbursts of color with rapt intent, a smile growing slowly on their face as they decoded Gordon’s emotions.

“amazement, thankfulness, curiosity, annnnnd happiness. Niiiice.” They all but purred.

“I. Yeah.” Gordon managed to say, almost startled by the sound of his own voice. “Benrey, this is....I…”

He couldn’t find the words. Instead, he carefully set the guitar back in its case, closed it, then leaned across to pull Benrey into a tight hug. There was no hesitation from the ‘bot this time; they clung to him tight, like he was the only thing keeping them anchored. Gordon set his chin on top of their head, squeezing his eyes shut to keep himself from crying.

He had no idea how long they stayed like that, but he could have sworn he heard Benrey conceal a sniffle of their own right before they (reluctantly on both parts) let eachother go.

“so uh,” The drummer murmured, their eyes on the guitar case instead of the man they’d just been holding. “missed you while I was workin’ on that. kinda gay of me I know haha.”

Gordon smiled at them, casually cupping their face with a hand. “I missed you too, buddy.”

“you…busy right now?”

“No. Did you want to do something?”

Benrey looked at the ‘roof’ of their fort in thought. 

“...ever wanted to smash a guitar?”

X X X X X X X

_ Crack! _

As it turned out, to build the Sweet Voice module for Gordon’s gift, Benrey had been spending a lot of time at the local junkyard. Long enough that they’d befriended the groundskeeper, and was waved in alongside Gordon with no fuss at all.

_ Crack! _

With an amount of pride that the guitarist would have expected from someone showing off their first house, Benrey toured him around the stacks of smashed cars and obsolete appliances.

“here comes the pitch, gordos!” The ‘bot cackled as they tossed another piece of scrap metal at him.

_ Crack!  _

The harsh sound of his old guitar slamming into something would have given Gordon a panic attack on any day before this one. As it was, he could only laugh as the chunk of metal went sailing over a pile of junked autos.

“H-holy shit,” He wheezed, pointing after it. “Did you see the spin on that one!?”

“fuck yeah I did.” Benrey swung themself up and off the dented car hood where they’d been reclined, wandering over to their friend’s side and leaning their elbow on his shoulder. “poggers job, gordon swingman.”

Gordon leaned back against them, one hand releasing its grip on the guitar’s neck so he could drape his arm around the drummer’s back. His eyes drifted up to the stars as he caught his breath, just barely visible from the junkyard’s position on the edge of Vinyl Mesa. It was actually a pretty hot night, and the ambient cool from his partner’s metal frame was a blessed relief.

“...Hey, Benrey?”

Their gaze, also upturned to the faint heavenly bodies, didn’t move. But they did lean their head against his as a sort of acknowledgement. “Hm?”

“I’m glad I met you.”

A small flow of pink and blue orbs trickled from Benrey’s mouth. For once they didn’t try to hide them or brush them away.

“wow. gordon gayman.”

Gordon nudged them softly with a chuckle. “Shut up, dude.”

They spent an hour longer in the junkyard, just watching the sky together silently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm alive! Sorry, the last week has been a series of...events. We lost power for a few days, I've been having migraines on and off, I've been working on KKRBVRAI (which just wrapped up its prologue and will be going into chapter 1 tomorrow! Come send asks guys, I am begging: http://kkrbvrai.tumblr.com/ ) and just like...life stuff in general. But I figure the reveal of Benrey's gift to Gordon is worth the wait.
> 
> I don't think I need to translate the sweet voice here. Y'all know what it means c;.
> 
> NEXT CHAPTER: BUBBY TIME!
> 
> You can also come drop asks and such by my main blog at: https://stillstandingsurvivor.tumblr.com/ !


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